10 comments:

Thanks Monica! They had lived here for thousands of years and some worshiped the Sun as the Father, and the Earth as the Mother, and did not believe in polluting her. Wise ancient wisdom taken from what they thought of the "Great Spirit's" gift of life.

Excellent stuff, as usual, and now we have another thing in common. My family has native blood, but our stuffy old folks wouldn't talk about it. Killing the past. Typical. I never even heard about this until I was grown. My mom, however, had all the old photo albums and when I was little I liked to look through them. There was a photo of a handsome native man in full ceremonial dress, staring straight into the camera. I was so impressed by him that I often studied the photo not knowing he could be a relative. When Mom got into genealogy she tried to find out about our native side. I mentioned the photo. She couldn't recall it so we got out the albums and went through them. No photo. Not even a spot on a page where it once was. We looked and looked. No photo. Sounds like a ghost story doesn't it? I swear it's true and we've never learned who our native relatives were, but we're still looking.

Thanks Nancy! There seemed to be a "stigma" attached among some members of our family also, and all I know of her was a few story's my grandmother told me of some "bigotry" incidents that happened when her sons were young.

My Father inherited a lot of Native American features, dark skin and coal black straight hair he had until he died in his 80's.

Darn it! I didn't get that, though Mamma often claimed I was a "wild Indian" just like him. Dad was once scouted by the Cleveland Indians back in the late 1920's when they were all Native Americans, but when they found out hair grew on his face they didn't draft him. He was realllly disappointed about that fluke. He was also the hardest working honest man I ever knew.